When Embers Burn, So Do We
by Clocken
Summary: "I'm s'rry," and yet, there is a lack of truth in those words. This is what he wants, the only thing that he wants. How can he possibly be sorry about that? He has waited for so many decades, and now he has the chance. He cannot lose this fight; he does not want to lose this fight.


**[**A/N**]:** I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters appearing below. Historical inaccuracies are likely to occur, sorry. :)

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_**~When Embers Burn, So Do We~**_

The sound of the rain is like a persistant drumbeat against the ground, and as yet another flash of lightning dances across the sky, a deep growl of thunder goes off in the distance. He is staring defiantly into his brother's eyes and although he easily sees the poorly conceiled sadness in those blue irises, he just as easily pushes any regret he might have, far into the back of his mind.

"Don't do this." Says his brother, his voice heavy and grim as never before.

But he remains indifferent all the same, his gaze never faltering. "I 'ave to."

**. . .**

"_Just surrender already, Sve; we both know I will be the one victorious!"_

"_You're n'thin' but t'lk."_

_Children, barely tall enough to reach the hips of a grown man, were standing in front of one another, surrounded by a field of high grass and yellow flowers. They kept a close eye on the other, wooden swords raised and ready to strike any second now. One wore a confident smirk, while another wore a stoic mask. The warm wind blew through their tousled hair, gently playing with strands of butter blonde, while not a single cloud was disturbing the deep, blue colour of the sky._

"_What? Well, come on, you bastard, then!"_

_The shorter of the two grunted and narrowed his eyes at the taller. Then he charged forward in full speed, but when he swung his sword towards the other child's side, it was merely blocked by another wooden blade. He found himself looking right into the shimmering, blue eyes of his eldest brother, scowling as the both of them pushed forward, trying to gain the upperhand._

**. . .**

His blade, gleaming even in this darkness, swings through the almost electrical air, seaking the flesh of his brother's thigh. With a loud clatter, however, it clashes against another sword, the sharp blow blocked in the last minute. He can feel his arms trembling slightly, unwanted emotions and exhaustion throbbing in his veins. He can tell his brother is fairing much the same as he. He cannot lose this fight.

"Bror, let's stop this!" shouts his brother over the howling wind. "Just listen to me!"

"No," he mutters lowly, more to himself than anyone. "You'll j'st try an' ch'nge my mind."

**. . .**

_More than anything, it looked like some sort of complicated dance, the one that the two boys had going. Jump, swirl, dodge, avoid the blade at all costs. It was always the same steady rhythm they moved in, syncronized and skillfully. Both were letting out vague pants and grunts as their small bodies were pushed towards their limits, although neither of the two would ever willingly throw in the towell._

"_Ai! That was a close one," shrieked the eldest as he parried another slash from his younger brother. "But not nearly close enough!" He laughed gleefully when the shorter blond send him a scowl and a glare._

"_Käften." Grumbled the younger underneath his breath._

_However, in an attempt to avoid his older brother's wooden blade, he stumbled backwards with a barely audible gasp and soon found himself lying on the ground. It only took a second for his opponent's sword to find its place by his throat, the owner smiling broadly down at him._

"_I win, it seems."_

"_Hm." The younger of the two huffed and sat up._

_His older brother pinched his cheek. "Aw, don't you fret, brother dear. One day, you may become just as strong as I!"_

"_Don't t'ch me."_

_The taller blonde laughed and pulled back his arms, finally letting his sword drift away from the younger's throat. In spite of himself, he reached his free hand out to his brother, smiling down at him. "I think you have improved since last time, though. You were a lot faster this time!"_

_At first, he received no reply to his praising words, although the younger nodded once and, in spite of **him**self, took his brother's outstretched hand. He looked anywhere but to his brother's face, his own slightly reddened._

"_Tack."_

**. . .**

His brother falls backwards, slips in the slippery mud, and comes crashing down against the ground. He just watches in disbelief for a moment, before he finally takes action and moves. The tip of his blade is but a mere millimeter from his brother's throat, and he is trying to be strong for himself and his own people. They need this, it is what they want, and it is what he wants, too.

"Please, Sve," and he cannot believe, that he has broken his older brother so much, that he is _begging_ him. "Don't go. Don't leave me- don't leave _us!"_

"I'm s'rry," and yet, there is a lack of truth in those words. This is what he wants, the only that thing he wants. How can he possibly be sorry about that? He has waited for so many decades, and now he has the chance. He cannot lose this fight; he does not _want_ to lose this fight. "But my m'nd's made up."

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**[**A/N**]: **So this was my second oneshot for Hetalia . . . and also my second oneshot for anything else, really. I have honestly had my doubts about it, but in the end, I was convinced to post it anyway. I hope you enjoyed reading, and if you didnt, I would love to hear why in a review or something along those lines. :P

**Translations - brought to you by the ever untrustworthy google translate:**

Swedish:

"Käften." = "Shut up."

"Tack." = "Thank you."

Danish:

"Bror." = "Brother."


End file.
